The Mind Game
by JSlayerUK
Summary: Wesley's having trouble sleeping. WA.


**Title:** The Mind Game  
**For:** yseultdb  
**Characters:** Wes and Angel. (and we're what? Surprised by this?!)  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Spoilers:** Through to about Shiny Happy People of AtS Season 4.  
**Words:** Dancing around 1,250.  
**Genre:** Romance  
**Restrictions/desires:** pre-slash, no bondage.  
**Disclaimer:** Mine dammit! All mine! Suck it Joss. *snort*  
**Notes:** It's actually only a very recent realisation of mine what the definition of pre-slash *is*. Recent as in, only an hour or so ago, and I thusly feel much guilt. Muchos thanks to my betaing swmbo, thanks to green_luv and ashlyn26 for keeping me going, and all my RL friends for the inspiration.  
  
**I LOSE!**  
  
You'll see what I mean.  
  


* * *

He was awake. Again. He was so tired of it. Not enough to sleep through of course, because when he slept the visions came. Doing the things he'd done, seeing the things he'd seen, it had all led to this restlessness. Yet all the while, nobody around him would ever know how haunted he was. His actions would never reveal the truth. Around the others the walls were up. He was responsible, intelligent and never faltered. He was unwavering in their eyes. But now he was in bed, no open eyes upon him and neither state of consciousness winning his body. Here in his mind he lived alone with his memories. 

Insomnia sucked. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this anymore. The world was becoming perfect now that Jasmine was here. 

_Jasmine._

It was odd that he wasn't more tired. Today, Jasmine had taken him alongside Angel to a vampire nest on the other side of town. He'd been there quite recently in fact, not that he'd recognise it all so well. Outside the shadow of permanent darkness Los Angeles looked different. He had been growing accustomed to eternal midnight, since the lack of daylight hand hardly impinged on his lack of sleeping pattern. No. Of late the Beast was to blame for that. 

There are only so many corpses you can see before it finally gets to you. Lilah was that body. Those dead eyes staring up from the dullest, most unattractive carpet ever seen. Angel's bite marking her neck, her blood lining his throat and nourishing him like a parasite whilst she was just there. Dead. Murdered in cold blood by a deity's mother. Not that Angel's leeching was held against him anymore. They didn't hold anything against each other anymore, which was how they could reconcile to the point where they could lie with each other again. There was no fault, they had been manipulated to hurt and betray each other. If there was blame, it lay in Jasmine's hands. 

_But Jasmine is without fault. _

Damn. 

He wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon if he kept along this trend. Thinking about Jasmine was painful. Hundreds, possibly thousands have people had died at Wolfram and Hart alone, just to bring her into being. The sight of all those bodies lying dead, their pain eternally etched on their faces, still haunted him. Then again, the fact that they had then risen up to form a zombie army trying to kill him lessened his sympathy somewhat. It all didn't explain Jasmine though. How could someone who proclaimed to be earth's saviour cause the pain and suffering of so many? It seemed like a major flaw in her plan. Jasmine had a flaw? He mentally shrugged. It was understandable though. Nobody's perfect. 

Except Jasmine. 

_Jasmine is perfect. _

Ow. 

He sighed. The confliction caused his head to ache, the constant twinge at the base of his skull... 

At the base of his skull and slightly to the left... 

It was an irritating twinge, and one that wouldn't go away. His head would throb incessantly and if he were a musician, he'd probably have good inspiration for a rhythmic drum beat. 

It had been like this every night since Jasmine came. The paradox of her existence was doomed to puzzle him forever. He would think until his head hurt, and then sleep to dull the pain. But that never worked. He would dream about his thoughts and then wake up from the pain. To turn off one's brain must be quite an impressive skill. 

_He would have to ask Jasmine in the morning. _

As for the time being he'd have to satisfy himself by occupying his mind with other things. He barely lifted his head to look around for something new to gage his interest. He saw... nothing. Obviously. Three in the morning, pitch black and a room that none of the city lights shone into. He looked toward the body that lay next to him. Angel could probably see something to take his mind off the... ow. He'd done it again. Others wouldn't be so foolish, he was sure. That was something to think about. Angel. Less of a something and more of a someone. Looking across the bed he couldn't see more than a shadowed figure in the darkness, but his mind's eye knew what he was looking at. 

Love is an interesting thing. The things a person would do for love, overall it was astonishing. It was only now, lying in bed and drinking in all that was his Angel, he was able to see that. Three in the morning, and Angel was fast asleep. Here was a vampire that slept at night, just to spend more time with him. Changing your natural sleeping hours. He had to think, could he do that? And even if he could, would he? He kept thinking about this to himself, picturing himself living as a vampire, him being the one making strange sacrifices. Could he sleep in during the day? There was sleeping in, and then there was sleeping in. Being fully nocturnal would require some serious determination. Determination was needed to make the relationship work again, determination and discipline. 

Angel was breathing. Didn't need to of course, but he did. He knew Angel did it only to make him more comfortable, regardless of the fact that he'd said many times that he was used to the being dead part. That was a lie of course. He wasn't exactly used to it. Ignoring the breathing, which Angel now never stopped as it was now as second nature to him as it was to the living, there were some things even Angel couldn't fake. Sometimes he would lie in bed with Angel, and open his eyes sharply when he hears a heartbeat drumming through his head. He'd always turn and look at Angel, only to realise that his wrist lay absently under his head, and that heartbeat was his own. He often knew it was his own, every time, but it felt good to imagine. He would lie awake, thinking that they shared one heart. In his mind, Angel's simulated heart beat in time with his own. One day it could happen. Therein lied hope. 

There was no body heat when he slept. When awake, he was moving and the energy kept him at a higher temperature. But asleep, he was practically dead. In fact, he was dead and if it wasn't for his forced breathing, nobody would know. He missed that. Lying with someone and truly feeling that someone with you. But hearing Angel breathe was enough to make him forget about that. The breathing discipline was an act of love, and it was in no way taken for granted. 

Now propped up on an elbow, he simply let himself watch and wonder, slowly ending his mental tirade. Despite his mind waxing lyrical about his sleeping man for an hour, he knew that if he kept staring at Angel's form sooner or later he'd sense it, wake up and ask questions as he had done every day that week. 

It was sooner and not later. 

"Are you watching me again?" 

"Yes." 

He deserved points for honesty at least. 

"Wes? Kiss me and this time don't think about it." 

He smiled. For the past few nights that had always been the most successful way so far of distracting his mind from the paradoxical... 

**Fuck.**

* * *


End file.
